


"Waltz: The Candlelight must not go out". [Thomas Sharpe - One shot]

by A_Wolf



Category: British Actor RPF, Crimson Peak (2015), Tom Hiddleston - Fandom, hiddlestoners
Genre: A.Wölf, F/M, Tumblr: theartofimagining13
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-23
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-05-30 16:01:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6431017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Wolf/pseuds/A_Wolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was requested over at: theartofimagining13 on Tumblr.</p><p>Inspired by: (October) Imagine: Attending a ball one night and meeting Sir Thomas Sharpe. You waltz with him and when it ends, everything around you fades; you’re alone in a house full of souls and danced with a ghost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Waltz: The Candlelight must not go out". [Thomas Sharpe - One shot]

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place in the 1900's as well.
> 
> SPOILERS AHEAD! DON’T READ IF YOU HAVEN’T SEEN “CRIMSON PEAK”.

**Originally posted at** : [The Art of Imagining.](http://theartofimagining13.tumblr.com/)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 _-It’s all beautiful here, look at this book selection_! –Exclaimed Florence walking into the study followed by her friend Charlotte.

She reads a few titles and gets lost in them.

_-Florence, let’s go! You’ve been looking at those books forever, the toast’s about to start._

_-You can go. I’ll catch up in a minute._

Florence walks along the bookshelf as her finger caresses each dusty book spine.

She finally stops at a title that sparks her interest. She pulls the book out and analyzes its cover.

 _-Ah, one of my favorites!_ \- Exclaims a manly voice.

She turns around and the book is gently taken away from her hands by a tall man wearing a tuxedo; with the bluest eyes and the darkest hair.

He turns his back to her, opening the book and flipping through the pages while pacing around the room.

_-“Were it not for vengeance, nor for love. Time measured out, but never told. The dark secrets of them all tainted these 4 walls. But it wasn’t until dawn that she turned to gold.”_

He snapped the book shut and walked towards Florence.

_-I’m Thomas Sharpe._

He offered his hand to her and she placed hers on top, only for its back to be kissed by the man.

- _Florence Northcraft._

_-It is lovely to meet you, Miss Northcraft. I don’t encounter many people with a refined taste in books very often._

_-I couldn’t say the same for the owners of this house. -she says looking at the bookshelf- Keeping an edition of “October poems" with the rest is quite disgraceful._

He chuckles.

_-Pehaps._

She smiles, he watches her carefully and she becomes aware of it, blood rushing to her cheeks displaying a flushed face.

_-I must leave, my friend’s waiting for me. Excuse me._

The toast has started. An old man wearing a top hat, speaks with a glass of champagne in his right hand.

Florence stands behind Charlotte. She looks over her shoulder before whispering.

_-What took you so long?_

_-I encountered an interesting man, one of the guests I suppose._

She lets out a quiet gasp.

People start clapping interrupting the girl’s chat.

_-I would like to thank you all for coming tonight to this delightful gathering._

_-That’s him!_ –Exclaims Florence in a whisper.

_-Are you sure?_

_-Yes, we were just talking in the study._

Charlotte turns around to face Florence.

_-That’s Sir Thomas Sharpe._

_-I know, he told me so._

_-He’s the owner of this mansion, Florence._

Florence stares at her friend who has a mixture of fear and excitement on her face. But before she can inquire about it, her eyes find Thomas.

He stares at her raising his glass with a warm smile. And she curses herself for criticizing the house owner’s book taste earlier.

 

* * *

 

The toast ended.

Thomas walks towards Florence.

 _-Would you do me the honor?_ –he says extending his hand.

She takes his hand and he leads her to the center of the room. The ball attendees are encircled around them.

A man hands Thomas a lit candle and walks away.

 _-We need to lead the waltz for them_ \- he says motioning the others in the room.

_-I’m afraid I’m not that familiar with it._

_-Worry not. I’ll guide you. May i?_

She nervously nods and he proceeds to put his hand on her lower back, and in a delicate manner he pulls her body closer to his.

_-Hold the candle with me; it has to stay lit until the end._

_-Why?_

He gives her a lopsided smile; condescending maybe.

A soft piano melody starts flooding the room.

She puts her hand over his warm hand and the candle, and the other one on his shoulder.

Thomas and Florence start revolving in perpetual circles ever so gracefully, in a moderately fast series of triple steps.

Everybody else watches in admiration of their beautiful swaying.

Once Florence gets used to the rhythm she looks up at Thomas and they lock their eyes as they dance.

Right before the piano piece ends and as they spin around the room, the candlelight goes out.

The room starts glistening, Florence looks at the attendees.

Their faces start losing color, decomposing and fading. Their skin is no more, only bones; after that they vanish. At the same time, the walls and furniture start changing. It’s all old and rusty.

Florence closes her eyes and tries to stop the dance in vain until she buries her face against his chest. Thomas stands still and she feels his hand getting colder by the second.

_-Thomas, what’s happening!?_

_-The candlelight went out._

She opens her eyes and looks up at Thomas.

His face turns ghastly, the candle hits the floor, he tries to pull her close again but she takes a few steps back, eyes open wide in terror. Thomas vanishes.

 

* * *

 

 She wakes up in her hotel room. The sun shines through the window. She stretches on the bed, but then it hits her. Was it all a dream?

She gets ready and takes the stairs that lead to the reception. An old man stands behind the desk.

_-Good morning, sir. Do you know a man named Thomas Sharpe? I suppose he’s well-known in town?_

_-You must be new here._

She chuckles.

_-Is it that obvious?_

_-Well, it is if you ask me that. Everybody knows Sir Thomas._

_-Could you inform me of his address, please?_

The man frowns.

_-He used to visit this place often. Well, everybody did, it was the only post office around. You could say he and his wife Edith were the first guests by a twist of fate, but it didn’t become a hotel until recently._

_-His… wife? Is she out of town?_

_-Yes. She left after his…passing._

Florence feels a chill slowly running down her spine as her heart accelerates and she becomes agitated.

_-Excuse me?…Could I just have the address?_

_-That house is no more, dear; it was already crumbling when it was inhabited._

_-What? i…_

The old man held Florence’s hand and looked deep into her eyes.

_-Darling, Sir Thomas Sharpe’s been dead for almost 10 years._


End file.
